


The Axe and the Stone

by TeamThor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), M/M, One Shot, Self-Sacrifice, Soul Stone (Marvel), Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 07:46:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18868840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamThor/pseuds/TeamThor
Summary: Thor and Bruce go to Vormir. One of them has to say their goodbyes.





	The Axe and the Stone

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So this is a short thing I wrote at like 3am, because I've seen a lot of these Thor and Bruce go to Vormir fics and it's such a heartbreaking concept that I wanted to do my take on it  
> Also posted on my Tumblr @Teamthorsblog, warning, this one is a little dark and has some mild gore in it  
> Nothing too bad, just mentions of blood and implied broken bones, so if that's a trigger for anyone please don't read!

“No.”

Bruce stared at the ledge, the empty wind howling where Thor had been stood. He’d been there. He’d been right there, and then all of a sudden- nothing.

He couldn’t breathe, could barely feel his legs as he stumbled towards the edge of the cliff, hoping to whatever God was listening that Thor wouldn’t be there. That somehow he’d grabbed a hold of a vine, or a rock, or something and was waiting for Bruce to save him. Maybe even taking a page out of Loki’s book, and faking it just to trick the stone into appearing.

Yeah, that was it. Thor was just faking. He was smart- smarter than most people give him credit for. Smart enough to come up with something like that, anyway.

Bruce peered over the ledge, massive heart pounding in his head, every beat like the banging of a war drum.

His breath caught in his throat, stomach clenching hard enough to send him falling to his knees.

He saw Thor’s body, splayed out lifelessly in front of him, blood spattering against the dark stone of Vormir’s cliffside.

It was like his brain went on autopilot, like he was kicked into the backseat again as Hulk or someone decide that this wasn’t what was happening. He was climbing before what had happened had even kicked in, because Thor was down there and he needed his help and damnit, he wasn’t letting another friend die.

He couldn’t.

He barely felt the impact as he landed on the ground, a light dusting of pebbles hitting his shoulders from the impact he’d made. At first, he kept his distance. His mind was kicking back into focus now, and he felt bile rising in the back of his throat.

Thor. The guy who’d rescued him from Sakaar. The guy who’d appeared in a burning show of lightning to rescue him in Wakanda. The guy who spent hour after hour sitting by Bruce, holding his hand, murmuring that he was “all he had left”. The guy he thought was near indestructible, was laying just a few feet away from him, blood staining ragged clothes red.

And then, a shuddering breath. Thor’s body twitched, it moved, and a weak groan echoed off the dark cliffside.

Bruce was on his feet in a heartbeat, and by Thor’s side in even less than that.

“Oh thank God.” Bruce was bent over Thor, green fingers trying to cup a face that was somehow so damn small now. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. We’ll be okay.”

Thor let out a small whimpering sound, cracked and high, and so unlike the demigods normal deep tones that it took Bruce a minute to even register that it had happened. His eyes flitted down to Thor’s outstretched hand, the fingers forcing themselves into a point towards where Stormbreaker lay, abandoned.

“Right, of course, whatever you need. Probably packed full of Asgardian healing magic, right?” Bruce was frighteningly aware of how crazy he sounded right now, words going at a hundred miles a minute, but Thor had asked for something and he was going to get it.

With one outstretched hand, he grabbed at the handle of the axe, laying it gently within Thor’s grip.

“There you go. It’s alright. You’re fine.” He settled back on his knees, waiting impatiently for a golden light-show of bifrost magic to bring the demigod back to his feet.

Nothing.

Thor just stared at him, a small frown of confusion- or was that regret?- on his face. The broken hands shaking tightened their grip on Stormbreaker’s handle, and out of nowhere it was being shoved clumsily into Bruce’s grasp.

Bruce blinked, eyes burning as the realisation hit him, his mind still refusing to accept the inevitable.

Thor wasn’t fine.

“What are you doing?” His voice was strained, cracking with the threat of tears that he didn’t know how they hadn’t spilt yet. “This is yours. You need it, in case we have any more battles or something.”

Thor shook his head, pushing it firmly against his chest in a wordless gesture. Cracked lips opened, as Thor’s voice, quiet and subdued, finally reached him.

“It’s yours, now.” Thor’s hand patted his chest, as his mismatched eyes began to close. “I’m…I’m sorry.”

“No.” Bruce shook his head, scooping the demigod into his arms, the axe clattering to the ground beside him. “Don’t you dare.”

“I had to.”

“No, you didn’t.” And now the tears were definitely spilling, as he held Thor tighter against his chest, his broad shoulders shaking with the strain of the sobbing.

Thor looked so small, now. Bruce could cradle his head in one palm, the other gently resting against the Thunderer’s chest, searching for that electricity that ran through his veins. Begging it, and any Asgardian magic that might’ve been there, to help.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. He couldn’t die like this, small and crumpled, broken by a fall that all evidence screamed that he should have survived. A hand, smaller than his, much smaller, reached up. Fingertips brushed red against green skin in a gesture that felt so sickeningly final, as Thor rested his palm against Bruce’s cheek.

“You have a life, Bruce Banner.” The pressure on his face became firmer, and Bruce felt the thrum of lightning beneath skin.

He saw a bit of the light come back into Thor’s eyes. The same battered determination that had come before every battle they’d shared together. The creasing of the eyes and the furrowing of the brow that said: my fate is my own.

“Live it.”

And then, Thor’s hand was falling, leaving a faint trail of scarlet down Bruce’s chest. It hit the stone ground with a weight that was more than Bruce had ever felt. Thunder rumbled overhead, the skies ripping open in one final show of power. Rain hurled itself from the clouds, battering the cliffside like the beat of a drum. Or the pounding of a heart.

Then, nothing.

Bruce woke in a pool of water, the rain and the thunder long gone, replaced by a small yellow stone in his hand. And an axe at his side. He sat, numbly, staring at the tower of stone in the distance with a broken gaze. The towering spire that almost broke the cloak of the sky itself, the monument that marked where Bruce had lost a light. Where the world, the entire damn universe, had lost it’s thunder.

His hands shook as they found their way to his transporter. The stone was slipped into his pocket, his free hand holding the axe like a priceless artefact.

Those were all he had of the God he’d once loved.

An axe, and a stone.

And the memories of mismatched eyes, crinkling with laughter at some joke Bruce had tried and failed to land. Of arms, strong and warm, wrapping around his waist on lazy Sunday mornings. Of a smile that lit up the room when Bruce rambled about physics and chemistry.

Bruce pressed the button, and the world collapsed around him.


End file.
